


Sanctuary

by LighteningLillies



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Pre and Post Reichenbach, Protectiveness, Revenge, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LighteningLillies/pseuds/LighteningLillies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After hiding their relationship for so long Molly is tried of being the woman he turns to when no one else is looking. And when their guard is down it gives one the most prefect timing for them to strike the heart of Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ((I posted this on tumblr forever ago and I love the feedback i got on it. Please enjoy my first submitted work on ao3))
> 
> http://lightening-lillies.tumblr.com/post/60138603014/sanctuary-by-l-l

Months since the great return of the Sherlock Holmes and things seemed to finally settle down down on Baker Street. The camera crews and reports seemed to give up and the story was lost in the wind. Of course things where different. John was married and no longer the lonely bachelor and Sherlock had gone back to living in his own place. John and Mary, where perfectly happy, and John lately just didn't think it right to chase after case after case with Sherlock every time he shot a text his way, he was a married man now. His wife came first. But he knew how much Sherlock needed to fall back into asome kind of patteren and wanted to help him. Suggesting Sherlock take a break from the cases for a while had to be the hardest thing he ever had to do, even compared to welcoming his best mate back from the grave. A few choiced words tossed across the room at each other followed by a tea cup and a death glare. John and Sherlock could nefver be bitter with each other for long. Sherlock gave in fianlly.... but after the first hour was moaning of being bored, so he typed out a text.

Any new bodies? -SH

Not since Thursday -MH

 

Sherlock groan and slumped down in his chair a bit, when was this never ending process of waiting going to come to a halt. He then looked over at his violin and picked it up stringing a few cords of anything and everything before his cell buzzed again.

Bored? -MH

UNBELIEVABLY.-SH

Stupid question, but want me to pick something to eat? -MH

Not a stupid question, Molly. I can join you, but no I am not hungry. -SH

My Place? -MH

30 Mins. -MH

You don't mind if I nibble do you? -SH

 

Sherlock smirked and move the bathroom quick to shower up before leaving. He was glad he started a romantic relationship with Molly, after he returned to London. Days like these particularly he felt like he needed her more than anything. Or at least a release from everything. Molly had always been the one he turn to in matters like this in the past few years being dead from this world, so disturbing the pattern would be pointless. Over the past three years he had grown close to her and counted on her more and more, not just for sexual releases but chats and feedback. but he could never forget the way their bodies worked together. Their first together embracing in bed was sudden but not surprising. He was rather fond of the memory of their bodies entangled together the next morning, never know how much he truly loved 'cuddling'. The way her hair looked so soft and gentle in the sunlight, her ivory skin so smooth and proclin like. She tortured his mind with images of her face during that moment of please and climax. And if his poor mind was knee mind in memories and screen shots of Molly it was frantically scanning and looking for a place within his mind palace that didn't have an inch of her in it. Has he scrubbed his hair he caught eye of something below, but the suds blinded him. Groaning and cursing out out loud he reached down and felt the problem. Erections in the showers happened more and more here lately.

-incoming sms-

Once he was dressed he downloaded the file and froze. Swallowing hard he finish buttoning up his shirt. Looking at this picture of his pathologist in her bedroom with the riding crop and her lab coat. Only with the riding crop and lab coat. 

Dearest Sherlock

Love Molly xxx

ON MY WAY.-SH

 

————————————————————————————————————————————

Sherlock held her. Molly’s back to his chest, their fingers entwine with each others and their legs lock. Molly loved the way his feet looked, some people would call that strange and weird but then again how many people got to see Sherlock Homes feet. Sighing happily as Sherlock nuzzled her neck, hearing him smelling the long soft curls, she giggled and kissed his cheek.

"How long before I can actually eat?" Molly bit her lower lip as he nibbled down on her shoulder sending chills up and down her back, he knew it was one of those special spots. Molly was still learning his, but as a tease back she dragged her nail up the inside of his thigh and he groaned out.

"You may do whatever you wish. But do you really want to leave me? Leave this warm bed?" His voice so deep when he was a roused that it made it so hard to pull herself away. Her fingers tracing circles in his palms his feet rubbing her small petite ones, their sweaty bodies still burning together, and a bit of their passion on the sheets.

"No I don't want to go. But you’ll leave before I will in the morning and I need food."

"I couldn't stay here all day, now could I?"

"You could if you really wanted to."

"Let us be serious Molly."

The statement hurt worse only because she knew it was true. Swallowing she nodded and smiled climbing out of the bed and slipping on her bra and jeans, not bothering to button them. She ran a hand through her hair and shrugged her shoulder hopelessly.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

She avoided eyes contact but still remain sweet and very Molly as she walked out of the bedroom not caring what his answer was. Sherlock sat there stunned and shocked. What had he done? Gathering his pants he got up and out of bed and followed her into the kitchen where she already had a small bag of baby carrots and a glass of milk. She looked up and smiled politely. “Want some?”

"No thank you, but you can tell me what is wrong."

"How long do you think this will last Sherlock, just curious? Do you think you will actually stay the whole night next time? Maybe a date? Or it always going to be just a sexy quickie and late night telly then gone before me the next morning and pretend as nothing happen outside these walls?" Molly was hurt but she knew this what was going to happen when she first kissed him. "I dont want that. I know what I signed up fort. But people change. I am getting older. I want to plant roots and try settling down. That may not be for you. But......" She gestured between them and then moved forward inward and kissed his cheek softly. "Just think on it. I am going to take a shower you can show your way out right?"

Grabbing her hand Sherlock stopped her and pulled her back close to him. “Molls…We aren't…this isn't. I want to give you everything, I just cant. I want you to be safe with me, but I cant grantee you that. I would love to give you a small house and everyday of the rest of my life...but..I just can't. You want the impossible.” Her hands where so small in his but he kissed them anyways.

"I want the most impossible things huh? I guess I never looked at it that way until now Sherlock." Molly tried to give him a real smile the kind she always would feel like she owe him anytime she saw him or was around him. He should always have the best of her, but it didn't feel like a two way door there. Trying to protect her was a noble cause but not good enough for her. This hadn't just surface that night she had some deep doubts in the depths of her heart that you can only hold back so long before it bottles up and pops. "Goodnight Sherlock." She said and turned away. Sherlock felt he was loosing this battle and maybe even the war. He kissed her softly before nodding and allowing her to leave for the bath room.

After dressing he had to stop by the bathroom door and just listen for a moment. The shower was running and he could smell the scent of her vanilla and lavender bath wash. It was nice. It was smooth. It was.... it was her. Simple and elegant, Molly. She was humming but he couldn't tell what. It was soft though, her voice was incredible even muffled under the shower spray. He could sit there and listen to her all night. One thing he enjoyed more the science and the thrill of the case was music. Molly never seemed to have any musical talent it wasn't until one late night with her that he caught her singing a few lines of some 80’s song that he truly got to listen to her talented voice. Her voice was brilliant if she hadn't pressed doctoring she would've made a hell of a singer. Even now he could tell she was angry but it didn't effect her voice. He remembered the nights his mother would do the same thing, express her mood through music. She had a great voice too. He would sneak into her room and hide in the closet listening to her sing at her vanity, then hurry to bed and ask for another song. He was young the last time she sung to him, but it had always been the one thing he missed from his childhood, and formed into a passion of his own.

 

————————————————————————————————————————————

Staying under a hot spray would always clear her head. Water flowing over her head and down her back. It was hard not to get carried away. She had been in for at least a good five minutes before she had cleared her mind enough to even focus on washing and pampering herself. Washing their love off and and down the drain, silently saying a prayer that the condom worked as well as the ones before had. Finishing up she turned off the water and toweled off. Her cell sitting up on the empty soap dish was staring at her. Had she over reacted? Of course she had. Molly knew going into this that, sex, was it.

Just wanted to let you know, I 'm sorry. Talk to you tomorrow? Goodnight. -MH

 

Changing into her pajamas she crawled into her bed and snuggled down for the night as her cell buzzed back.

Sweet Dreams Molly Hooper. -SH

 

Charles Augustus Magnussen smirked from the black BMW from across the street from Molly’s flat, watching Sherlock leave and Molly turn off her bedroom light. He was terribly thrilled that he had a lead way to run with. Jim Moriarty had wanted to play games with Sherlock, Charles just wanted to break him. He and everyone he loved would never be safe as long as he drew a breath. He lit a cig and relaxed back into his seat, loading the glock and the many magazines be side it in the passager seat. He had a busy morning waiting for him and he needed to be ready.


	2. Chapter Two

The next morning was just like many others, for Molly.

Got up and feed Toby, dressed for work , apply a bit of makeup; not a lot just some gloss and mascara, then head out the door and grab a cabbie to Bart’s.

Her same old routine.

No traffic, since most of London was still sleeping. The ride was quiet and peaceful, and thankfully enough she needed some times still to air things out. Looking at her cell she thought a few times of texting him before she finally typed out a message and pocketed the cell. Climbing out she paid the fee, then she gathered her coat and bag heading inside quickly feeling the small mist turn into droplets of rain. Not a bad morning. Semi-normal. Taking the short ride down to the morgue she headed to her office where her lab coat was patiently waiting. Time to start a new day.  
Shrugging off her personal belonging she found her cell and decided to place it in her lab pocket, she wanted to know if perhaps he would text back. Normally she wouldn't have left it on her but Sherlock hadn’t replied to her message from before. He had to be busy or on the rare occasion sleeping. Keeping it on her felt better than forgetting and making a fool of herself later.

Two new bodies today already. Signing off on the bodies she began to wash up for the first post-mortem, she grabbing the recorder and hitting record she set it softly down on the counter top. Recording what she said was a lot easier than stopping to write down notes, plus she could never do it without getting blood everywhere. The first one went swimmingly. Cause of death was just as the doctor had thought. massive heart attack due to the extreme stress levels he experience during his bathroom breaks. He had been diagnosed with Crones Disease eight years ago and there wasn't much small intestine left. She could only image it was a painful way to go.  
One down one to go.  
Slipping on a new pair of her gloves she heard the entrance door swing open. It was too early for her assistant to be arriving, maybe it was Sherlock? Leaning forward she was curious if she could see who it was without leaving the lab. Without luck she pulled off her gloves snapping them off and tossing them in the trash, before heading out. A man was looking for someone, as she stepped into the room.

“Excuse me, Sir? You can’t be down here. Authorized personnel….” Molly said in a sweet and polite voice, but was soon cut short when he turned and she saw the gun in his hands. Her eyes widen and she thought to make a run for it but knew there was no real safe place to hide down there. Swallowing hard she stood still. Waiting. He was an older man, her father’s age if he was still living. Sliver pepperish colored hair, an elegant well groomed man. Sliver blue eyes clouded by a pair of spectacles.

“Dr. Molly Hooper. Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Hooper, I have heard so much about you." He stepped closer towards her. Her heart stopping. "Nice work on Reichenbach, Molly. May I call you Molly?” The gun was aimed at her now and Molly nodded not taking her eyes off it.

“Is there something I can help you with Mr…?” Her hands shook at her sides and her knees felt weak. Her heart pounded to the point she wondered if he could hear it. He walked closer and she stepped back but he raised the gun higher and smiled shaking his head and she stopped. From his coat pocket he pulled out bright neon orange zip ties and walked be side her.

“Mr. Magnussen If you please. Now hands be hide your back please.”

Molly brought her hands be hide her back and remained quite. Knowing if she did as told he would continue to be clam and maybe no harm would come to her, she just prayed no one came down during the middle of this. He pulled a stool for her to sit on. “Please Molly do take a seat.” And she did carefully and he knelt as he bounded her ankles together rubbing a hand up and down the back of her thighs. “I can see why he likes you so much, you hide some much under all these clothes.”

“He?”

“Don’t play coy with me young lady, you know who. Your brilliant lover. Just curious but did the two of you have a spat last night? He left a lot sooner than he normally does, a good hour or two sooner.” Molly felt tears swell up in her eyes and she looked away and focused on her breathing.

“You have it wrong Sherlock doesn't care about anyone but his self.”

After a moment of silence her grabbed her chin and directed her face to his face. It looked as he was about to say something when the moment was broken by her Cell. It buzzed in her pocket and as he looked down he grin. Digging into the pocket, letting his hand linger a bit too long, he pulled the cell out. He laughed as he read the screen. In fact he laughed hard and she wondered what was so damn funny? The he turned the cell so Molly could read it.

'I care about you too, maybe to much. Talk more over lunch @ 13:00? –SH'

Molly felt hear heart tighten and she sobbed out as the laughing continued. “I guess you are wrong Dearest Molly.”

She glared back over at him and stared him down. “I will NOT let you harm him.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“We’ll just see about that.” She kicked him hard and pushed herself back in the rolling stool till she hit the wall and tried to pull the fire alarm and failed. Molly had no idea where she had kicked him but knew it was enough to keep him down for a few precious moments. Standing she tried again but a shot rang out and she fell forward against the wall. Molly tried to move but couldn't a pain in her back and gut over took her and she slumped to the ground, looking down she saw the blood already soaking her shirt. Crying out her body shook. Never not once had she ever thought on how much it would hurt to have been shot. The pain ringing throughout her whole body, like liquid fire. Knowing the medical background that she knew there were a thousand different possibilities that could be happening to her at those few moments. Internal bleeding. Damage Arteries. Shock. Organ damage. Extreme blood loss, and the high risk of infection. Her breathing was already hard and heavy. The fear of blacking out wasn't helping her to control her breathing to a less labored state. Magnussen walk over and turned her over, gun still in hand as he knelt down shaking his head. “I told you so. Tell me Doctor what is protocol for a shooter in the hospital?”

Molly glared at him as she screamed feeling his hand press down on her belly. He laughed a devilish laugh and smiled. “Let me tell you, since you are out of words at the moment.” He pulled the stool over and sat. “First the hospital goes into lock down, then police show up to screech the floors. And guess what they hit the basement area last. You’ll be dead before anyone finds you. And just for good measures.” He rose the gun again and shot off till time her upper chest. Gasping for air she coughed up blood and the look of true fear that her life was slipping for her. “There. All better. See you at your funeral.” He patted her face rubbing her cheek softly like an old relative. The blue light above her flashed, being the warning for lock-down, and Magnussen groaned like a child who wanted to stay longer but got up anyways. He waved as he walked out the doors.

It felt like her body was on fire with pain. Her breathes became heavier and less each breath. Swallowing a mouth full of blood as she tried to scream but nothing came out. Fighting the zipties she needed to wiggle her hands loose, but they were way to tight. She could feel with her hands the pool of blood under. She was bleeding out. She was dying. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and all she could think of was trying to get to Sherlock. And her message she sent him that morning.

I thought about it hard last night and her last text off to Sherlock.

'I want you to care for me the way I care for you. I don’t care the risk. Talk later? Lunch? - MH'

Sherlock. Sherlock…..Sher…..

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John came over for coffee and tea, like he did most mornings. Sherlock sitting in the kitchen working on some god awful smelling experiment, but he ignored that. Flipping through the paper and checking the website; that had just been brought back online since Sherlock’s fake death. Nothing. A very slow day it looked like. He was thankful that Sherlock hadn't started on being bored yet, he wasn't much in the mood for it. Poor Mary was sick for most of the night and was at home resting. Flu, most likely, and with her working at the clinic with John she was bound to pick up a cough and cold every now and then. Pouring himself another cup of coffee he typed up a new blog as he waited for Sherlock to zone back in.

“John?”

John looked up shocked in fact he even spoke. Clearing his throat he looked up from the screen. “Yeah?”

“Where is a nice place to have lunch?”

“Sherlock it’s 9:00am…”

“Not for us.”

“Oh…?” He was curious and then thought on the question. “Let’s see…the pizza joint down the road it nice.”

“She doesn't care for their pizza. “

“She?” John turned for the desk his full and every attention was upon Sherlock.

“Molly Hooper.” Sherlock looked through a few more slides before finding the one he wanted, then got back to work.

“The deli is nice.”

Sherlock made an approving face and nodded agreeing to the statement and then was slient again.

“Why did you ask me?”

“Computer too far away, plus you are well skilled in the many restaurants you have taken girl out to before. “

John smirked and nodded in approval. He returned to blogging when he got a text from Mary.

'Turn on the tellie. –Mrs.Waston'

He smiled at her signature and did as his wife said. There where reports coming in from St. Bart’s about it being locked down. A possible shooting. John thought of Molly, and then looked over at Sherlock. He hadn't heard the report yet. “Sherlock…” John’s cell buzzed again and this time a incoming call from Lestrade.

“Lestrade?”

“John, there’s been a shooting at St. Bart’s.”

“I see the report’s coming in.How many shot?”

“One.” His voice was raw and John could hear the sound of the busy hospital in the background. He lower his voice and the tone. “John, it was Molly Hooper, the pathologist here at Bart’s. I know you and Sherlock knew her.”

“Knew?” John feared the worst. His stomach dropped and he knew he had to tell Sherlock. He had looked up from his work was watching John curiously. John’s expression was blank and his hands shook slightly.

“Its bad John, really bad. The docs here...well they haven't said much. I got to run. Thought you should know.” Lestrade hung up and John pocketed his cell. Taking a breath he looked to Sherlock.

Sherlock waited and was growing impatient. He sighed and obviously getting bored but then saw the tellie’s report, his eyes widen a bit then he shook his head. What are the chances...489/1 perhaps...but she knew him. More than knew...She had become a major part of his life even if no one knew about their relationship of sorts. That would decrease her chances. 100/1?

“It was Molly…She…it’s not good.”

0/1

Grabbing his coat and his cell he ran out the door and down the stairs before John could catch up. The cab ride over Sherlock tried calling her cell a few times and texted but no answer. Of course she wouldn't answer if she was on a OR table...but still some part of him wanted her to answer. A part wanted it to be another Molly Hooper, even though he was perfectly aware there was only one Doctor Molly Hooper in all of St. Bart's. It was like he didn't believe what John and Lestrade had both told him. He just wished they were wrong. He NEEDED them to be wrong.

He couldn't believe it. Molly. His Molly? He was just with her, not more then 10 hours ago. Her text this morning. Did she know this morning? Why had she said she wanted lunch? She didn't know this was going to happen. She could have not know. Impossible. All she wanted was lunch, this wasn't her note. He looked back at her text. 7:15am. She hadn’t even gotten to work yet. She was shot? His Molly? Why? He filled with rage. He wanted the one whom pulled the trigger dead. Dead. Tortured and killed slowly. Beautiful and sweet Molly wouldn't harm a fly. Who would want to hurt her? Somewhere deep down he knew it was because of him. He got her shot. Now she was lying on an operation table being cut on. Her life could be gone before he even got there. As far as he knew she could already be gone. He couldn’t use Molly. Not after leaving ‘them’ in the position they did. All she wanted to know that he cared for her. Truth was this was the reason why he couldn't. This reason. And even now his hear the non-existing one, broke and was being ripped apart. He bit his lip to the point of blood as he held back tears. His fist tighten and ready to strangle the very life out of the shooter. The idea of Molly lying on a table soaked in blood being poked and prodded, till a doctor just gave up and let her die. No. Not his Molly. He should have just told her that he couldn't live without her. Did she ever get his text? Would she ever know how he felt? He loved her. If she died he would too.

That ride over to Bart's was the longest trip he would ever have to endure.


	3. Chapter Three

Breathe.... that's it Molly...

Keeping breathing. 

Listen to your heart beat....fill the air in your lungs..

Heart Beating. 

Beep. Beeping? 

The sounds of people around her. A rush feeling, like passing through time as the world came to a halt. No pain. Was she dead? What had happen?   
Then it hit her...the morgue..the man...the gun..   
She was shot.   
Shot.   
The girl who was named 'the most likely to want Air Supply to get back together', in high school, was shot. Good Girl Molly. Who would've guessed?  
But now as she laid on a table, eyes closed, and the chill of death breathing on her neck it all seemed that much clear. She was dying. Panic and fear filled her mind. She didn't want to die. She wanted to so some much before her time was finish. She wanted to find love with Sherlock, a family, a home of her own...so many little things...  
The beeping increased and she could feel her body shake. Was she in shock? No. Not her. Not yet. Now now. Molly Hooper wasn't going to die on the table under the knife. It wasn't how it was suppose to happen. She was going to die in her sleep in her bed when she was old and grey. Giving up now was not an option. Molly Hooper is a fighter. Dying was not an option. The beeping stopped and she relaxed a bit. Her head was swimming and she didn't want to slip back into darkness but she did.

It was so dark.

\---------------------------------------------------

 

The moment the cab reached St. Bart's Sherlock jumped out and ran to the entrance doors. Pushing pass doctors and nurses he blocked out all voices as he rushed to the surgical floor.

"Sir! You cant be here! Sir!" Nurses finally caught up to him as he stopped to read the patient board. 'M.Hooper- patient recovery' 

"Why can I see her!" He yelled at the nurse holding his arm trying to budge the tall man.

"Sir, please don't yell."

"When?"

"Whom?"

"Molly Hooper."

The nurse looked up at the broad found her name then back to the nurses all looking scared and worried. Why wouldn't they be scared out of their minds? The hospital had just been in lock down, and now this man was running in yelling for the only victim. The head nurse looked him over a few times before waved the nurses to clam down a bit. "Are you related to Miss Hooper?"

"I am her fiance."

Prefect timing as John caught up and heard the news, his shoes squeaking as he tried to stop himself on the polish marble floors. He stared at Sherlock blankly, how did he go from caring that the pathologist was shot to she is my fiance? Sherlock never did stop surprising him. He was a bit shocked, but he shook it off he needed to be there for Molly and just as much for Sherlock. But what really surprised him was when the nurse looked at Sherlock then lead him back to the O.R waiting room to wait till she was back in a recovery room.

SRR#18 (SURGERY RECOVERY ROOM 18) was a small and bleak room. All white wall minus one that was a pale pasty blue with tiny yellow flowers all over it. The machines all around her where beeping and making some kind of distracting noise. IV's pushing antibiotics and fluids in, tubes pushing blood and other fluids out. A ventilator taking her breathes for her, the tube shoved down her throat, and her chest rising and falling like a machine. Her grown was folded down just above her chest, but wrapped in a glaze protecting a massive wound. Her right shoulder was wrapped and bandage up, a purple swelling bruise formed around it. One Shot. A bandage on her stomach and hip hinted another. A total of four. The nurse had been standing the whole time be side the two men, reading Sherlock's face she knew they where close, and reached out and touched his shoulder softly as she offered a chair for him to sit in. John had been in the door way watching his best friend slip into a blankness unlike he had never seen before. It gave John enough time to announce himself to the nurse and ensure her that Sherlock wouldn't do anything rash again, it was just the shock of hearing that his fiance had been shot that had lead him to act like a mad man. The nurse understood and mumbled something about how she 'hoped they catch as bastard' then left. 

"Are the two of you really engaged?" John asked pulling a chair up beside Sherlock allowing them both to sit at her bedside.

"No, but they wouldn't let me see her if I wasn't." Sherlock took her hands and notice the cuts and rubbed off skin for zip ties around her wrist. She had been tied? Tied and shot? Fucking bastard......His stomach twist and turned. He caused this, he lead someone to her and then this happened. She must have been so scared. A imagine of her frighten and terrified face enraged him. His thumb stroked the soft skin just left next to the IV. There was a soft knock on the door but only John looked up.

"Gregg." John shook hands and welcomed him into the small room where he took a place at the foot of Molly's bed. He looked at her, like John had. Poor Girl. Tubes going in and out of her, IV's everywhere, and monitors and ventilators watching and recording her every move. Sherlock's hand on hers. his eyes not looking away. The look of guilt on his face. There was more there than friendship passing through him. He never thought he would see that is this great man, and suddenly he was thrilled it was Molly that had brought that to him, but at the same time fuming pissed that someone would harm her. Sure she and Lestrade weren't as close as John and Sherlock where but she was still a person to be trusted and that was all that mattered. Lestrade took a breath and composed himself before speaking.

"Four shots. One in the right subclavian artery, but everything looks good. The second shot was through the back, didn't hit anything, but she was close to fatal toxemia and the extreme blood loss made her flat line on the table. She is a fighter. Her hands and ankles where zip tie when the morgue assistant found her. They are saying she was there about twenty minutes alone before she was found. now she has slipped into a coma.... Molly is very lucky."

"Lucky?" Sherlock spatted at Lestrade, as his face filled with rage and anger. John stood at his tone and swiftly got in between them. "She nearly died!"

"But Sherlock, she didn't. Molly is alive." Lestrade calmly said looking back over to Molly's sleeping body. The room fell silent for a while Sherlock gave in to his guilt and flopped back down in the chair and held his skull through his thick curls. His hand where nothing like hers when she ran her small petite fingers through his curls. The way she would play with the twisting hair when they laid naked together. Their passion during sex would cause her to gently pull the curls, Sherlock didn't mind, in fact he loved it. He missed her now. She was inches from him, but miles away at the same time. His hands shook.

John and Lestrade left the room quietly and shut the room be hide them. They both felt as though he needed a moment to get everything out, and he would never do that with both of them in the room. 

"They're engaged?" Lestrade asked gently as the walked back to the waiting room area. John shrugged his shoulders while pocketing his hands into his pants.

"No clue. He says no. But I feel as though they have been keeping it a secret. There is obviously a lot we don't know about whats going on between the two of them." They stopped in the hall and leaned against the wall. Both silent as they both fell into a deep thought. They seemed to both puzzled on Sherlock and Molly as a couple and who would want to harm her. The only one that would've was now dead in the ground. Jim Moriarty. This wasn't just an attack though. She had been tied up and shot twice. She had tried running away? He had been talking with her? "Any leads?"

"Pulling footage now. We'll let you know when we know." 

"Thanks, Gregg."

"Take care of him." Lestrade nodded off towards SRR#18 and headed down the hall. John sighed and looked that direction as well. It was going to be a long night. Tapping a few digits onto his cell, John texted Mary telling her the news. 

Molly Hooper was shot. Not looking good. Staying with Sherlock. - John

OMG. Will get a back ready for you and some coffee. Will Sherlock want some? - Mrs. Waston

Black. Two Sugars.- John

John couldn't help but think what if it was Mary in there laying on the bed. John felt his heart drop and tears swell in his eyes. His wife. His love. Shot? God...the thought was horrid, how in the world was Sherlock still together on this? He walked back tot he room and listened in. There was a soft male's voice whispering. Sherlock was talking to her. His voice was raw and filled with emotion. John care for Sherlock as a brother the idea of him hurting because of someone harmed him made him rage.

He came to care for Molly in that moment as well. The man whom had no heart or feelings, was there crying on the bed of Mousy Molly Hooper. The woman he use to walk all over to get whatever he wanted. She had became the one person Sherlock cared for. This change came at such a surprise for John. Maybe there where signs there leading up to this and John had missed him trying to be the Husband he vowed to be to Mary. Had he been a bad friend here lately?

John softly knocked on the door and walked in. Sherlock still held her hand and watched the heart monitor. He was consumed by her. John didn't blame him, he was with Mary, no matter the day or time. John reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "She'll pull through Sherlock."

Sherlock tried to smirk but failed and nodded. "I know she will."

\------------------------------------------

 

TWO WEEKS LATER....

The last two weeks had been hell. The long nights at the hospital. No sleep. Running on coffee and three day old clothes. John had force him to go back to Baker Street to shower and change and at least drink some coffee. Every time he tried to close his eyes a nurse would walk in or he would feel her hand twitch. He watched over her night and day. No one entered in that room that he didn't know almost on a personal level. He had sponge bathe her, rather let a male nurse do it one day, his over protectiveness was in hyper drive but could one blame him? John remembered nearly had to pull the nurse out of the room to save the idiot from being punched, but he was wise enough to get out of dodge after offering to bathe her. Sherlock and the Nurses came to an agreement that only he would be in charge of bathing from then on out. She was breathing on her own now; the tube taken out after the first week, and a lot of her color was slowly coming back. Her shoulder injury looked better, but doctors still fear she would loose some of the motor skills out of it, if she didn't recover just right and do physical therapy. Sherlock felt horrid each time news like that surfaced. She might not be able to preform her job, the one other thing she loved to do in this world. 

Molly was going to come back from this. She was going to the best at her job without flaw and prove everyone wrong. He just knew it. All she had to do was wake up. Molly was in there somewhere. He was sure of it.

Sherlock sat there flipping through a news paper, barely reading, every few minutes or so looking up to see Molly. His eyes lingering on her face, hoping she would open her eyes. No hope. Nothing. Sighing disappointingly he flipped the next page. But his cell buzzed. He ignored it. Then it went off again.

Taking it out his eyes widen and he looked around the room. Molly's cell number was texting him. He knew it was missing and they had tried to a GPS scan for it, but it had been turned off.

'Staring at her will not make her wake up. '

 

Typing out his reply he looked out the window then shut the blinds, then typed another text.

'Are you to thank for her condition? -SH'

'If so...we need to meet. -SH'

He stood over Molly and checked everything before leaning down and kissing her forehead. He placed his forehead against hers and whispered.

"Please wake up...Come one Molls...for me..."

His cell buzzed and he looked at the screen.

'I thought it only proper to end your new life where it would've months ago.' 

 

He held Molly's hand tightly looking at her closed eyes hoping she would open them before he chased after her attacker. But she didn't she remained sleeping so peacefully. It was then that he knew he would travel to the end of the earth and back for her. Revenge would be to easy he wanted to protect her now, and now with her attacker texting him...he feared it would only be a short time again before he came back to finish the job. Like Moriarty he wanted to hurt him from the inside out. So Clinge to be following someone else plan. Why not make up his own? Because he thought himself better than James thinking he could complete what he couldn't....but something still didn't add up....He had to go. He had to find and beat and kill the man responsible for harming his Molly. Sherlock had to. It didn't matter his reasons for harming Molly. But he wouldn't be around to think that option over twice again.

"I will be right back...I love you..." He whispered close to her and kissed her forehead again.

'Do you want to meet? Coffee on the roof? Black two sugars right?'

 

Sherlock looked at the time and nodded. Opening the door walked smoothly over to the stairs and began the climb to the roof to meet a mad man for the second time. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

 

John made it to St. Bart's in record time heading to SRR#18. A nurse had called him informing him that Mr. Holmes had left. Something was wrong, John just knew it. Bursting into the room, Molly was there of course but Sherlock was not. He looked around for a note or anything, but couldn't find anything. Right as he turned to open the door he heard a soft grunt. John froze and looked back at the sleeping pathologist. Her eyes tighten and she let out another groan. Her hands shook as she moved them towards her face. Molly coughed and moaned as felt turned her head to look around. Her eyes where slightly open. Molly was awake. John froze and just watched her with awe.

"John?...."

"Molly? Molly! Thank God.....Youre..... Wake." He leaned down and engulfed her into a warm ebrace. She was still stunned and yelped slightly in pain. John loosen his grip and helped her back to the pillows.

"Where ....is .....Sherlock....?" Her voice raspy and dry, she had to gasp out a few times just trying to spit out the question. John was in pure shock that she was talking back to him. "John?"


	4. Chapter Four

Sherlock stood there just feet away from where Moriarty took his life and then he faked his. It was the first time he had returned to this location since it happen, and now that he was there Sherlock was unsure what to do. No one was around. But there on the edge...what was it? Walking over the edge where he jumped three years ago, it seemed so well placed. There below was the sidewalk and he swallowed a lump in his throat. But there on the edge was the pathologist's cell, a small sliver smart phone, nothing to flashy but noticable. Carefully he looked over his shoulder before bending over and picking the deceive up. The screen saver had change since the last time he had saw it. No longer was it Toby, her cat, but the image of Molly's bloody tied up body in the morgue. The blood soaked lab coat and her pull over stained. Her face twisted in pain and her eyes so blank. It made him sick to his stomach. His Molly....The phone lit up and he answered it.

"Mr. Holmes, Good to see you."

Sherlock heard the voice not only through the cell but from behind him as well, he slowly turned and saw the madman he had been waiting now. A mid-age man with salt and pepper hair and of course, aiming a gun at him. Chuckling a bit Sherlock pocketed the cell and stared him down. His eyes quickly deducing anything and everything there was to know about this bastard. Left-handed. Smoker. Three year old suite. Nice brand but out dated. Loss of job, but still wanting to hide it from the world. Faded tan ring around left hand ring finger. Once married. Divorced? No...widow. Holds gun like an ex-military. He handles guns for a living. Job dealing with firearms. Smuggler? CAM monogrammed on his cuff link. CAM? 

"And you are? Other than a widowed, gun smuggler, in the middle of bankruptcy?"

"Oh my, forgive me. Charles A. Magnussen. Former business associate of one Jim. Moriarty. Not really a friend but he brought in good business."

"Then why go through as this trouble of hurting Molly to get to me if Moriarty wasn't close to you? But then let me guess the money will help greatly with that bankruptcy issue wont it?"

"Ding ding ding.... Unfortunately You are bad for business which means you must be dealt with. Miss Hooper, though, was a personal request from my business partner. He has a huge grudge against that little mouse."

"And who would that be? Your Business Partner?"

Charles Magnussen smirked and shook his head. "Did you like the screen saver?" Changing the subject as quickly as possible. He is breakable...He pulled out his cell and showed him his screen saver. Molly laying dying on the cold marble bloody floor. "I have the matching."

Sherlock glared him down his teeth grinning against each other his jaw shut tight. The gun was raised and Sherlock eyed the area quickly around him, not much to work with. He nknew this, it had been the same when he was last up there on the roof. Before he could get out of the way a shot was fired. But it wasn't at Sherlock. Sherlock watched as the lifeless body of Charles fell into the roof gravel. Shocked he looked towards the adjacent building and notice a window catching the light as it shut. Sniper. Flipping Charles over Sherlock cursed out loud. A straight bullet through the head, and most of his skull gone. Blood and brain matter splattered agonist most of the roof behind him. Grabbing the madman's gun he knew the only way he was going to get the answer he needed, was to chase after the shooter. Not wasting anytime he quickly headed down the stairs jumping the railings as often as possible. Sherlock flew down those stairs quicker than he thought humanly possible. But he had too...he needed to know. He wanted to make sure Molly would never be harmed again. And with the threat still out there it was always going to hiding in the shadows of her mind. When he reached the backdoor he burst through it running across the street, dodging a few cabbies and cars as he did.

The outline of a man running caught his eye and Sherlock didn't waste time to chase it. Down the alley ways into a wet and trash filled back road he thought he had lost him. When he heard another shot he hurried and ran faster turning the corner to see a cliche black car, known famously for his brother's arrival. And of course Mycroft and a few of his body guards stood at the end of the road way, once used as a loading dock, looking towards a man groaning on the ground in pain. Sherlock knew Mycroft would never get his hands dirty but the gun in his hands made him raise an eyebrow. Did he really know how to shoot that thing?

Sherlock stopped and caught his breath nodding politely at this brother and Athena. "Thank you Brother Dear, now put that thing away before someone get there eyes shot out."

"Oh I think I might awe you in my unknown skills, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and walked over to the sniper bleeding on the cold ground then knelt down, looking him over. He was bleeding for his gut. Belly shot. Serious but not deadly ......yet. Sherlock poked his long slender finger in the gushing gun wound and pushed down hard then wiggling his finger around, trying to cause as much pain as humanly possible. The man screamed and cried out, as Sherlock continued for another three minutes. "I want a name!"

"I donno any bloody name." the man yelled and groaned out trying to push Sherlock off but he only bared down his weight on his hips hurting the shooter more.

"Now!"

"Moran! Moran! That's all I know! "

Sherlock wiped his blood cover hand on the mans jacket and gave his a swift kick before stepping back to his brother. Mycroft gave his blood cover hand a disgust look, as Athena handed him an alcohol napkin to clean up with, then a fake plastic smile up at Sherlock.

"Charming display. I will have a look into that name for you, of course. Word is that Miss Hooper is asking about you, so hurry along."

Mycroft said in his very posh tone as he offered Sherlock his hanky to dry his hands. Sherlock's head jolted up. Wait...Molly was await! He needed to get back... he turned to leave before stopping and looking back at the trash bleeding on the floor.

"I am assuming you have clean up duties..."

"I always have cleaned up your messes." Mycroft shook his head and climbed back into the black car.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Sherlock walked into the room, he saw her sitting up slightly against a mountain of fluffed pillows. Obviously John had gone a bit over broad. But when she looked up at him, he felt his heart stopped. She was awake. She was alive.Then the one thing he had been waiting for.... She smiled. Her smile. His smile. His Molly. Sherlock moved next to her on the bed and she embraced him gently. With his arms around her he could feel how much weight she had lost and how fragile she felt. His fingers found a bandage that gave proof to her close call. Her wound would heal and a scar would fade with time but she would never forget this. THAT. That, is what killed Sherlock. He gave her an alarmed and sorry look and she tried to remain smiling and soothing him but it faded and failed. Understanding her need he took her back in his arms and held her tightly. 

"I am so sorry Molly...."

She cried softly as he pet her hair back. The horrid smell of the hospital shampoo didn't bother him as he took in her scent trying to lock away the memory of this embrace in his palace forever. When she got her crying under control and it didn't hurt to whimper anymore, she whispered to Sherlock. "I got your text. I wanted you to know I read your text."

Sherlock let out a sigh of relief and smiled, he took her face in his hands and kissed her most passionately.

John and Lestrade stood there behind them wide eyed and then looked anywhere else but at the couple. Mary quickly pushed the men out of the room and out into the hall.

"I guess this means they are seeing each other.." Lestrade asked or simply stated. The matter of the statement was unclear since the detective was still pondering as he left the ICU wing.

"I donno why you two think it was impossible for them to keep it a secret?" Mary said as she tossed of her coat and waited for her husband.

"Its not that Mary, its the fact she changed him." John chuckled at the very thought and pulled his wife closer to him. Every moment since the shooting he had to remind himself how terribly blessed he was to have Mary there with him. "Let's go home."

\------------------------------------------------------------------  
The next few weeks where hard. The hardest Molly had ever been through. Between physical therapy and hearing the same story over and over again she grew tried of the hospital. She tried to forget the gun shots hitting her but then again it was always there in the back of her mind. That man. That face...Always there in the back of her mind. Sherlock constantly was there never leaving and always pushing her to get better. As much as she was grateful for him being there, all the pushing was getting under her skin, but she bared it and smiled on.

"Molly try walking now without the bar for support."

"Sherlock...I don't think I can."

"Molly you can do it."

"But.."

"Do IT Now."

She let go and steady herself and little by little took a few steps. Her knees hurt and she fell smacking her face against the wall. The nurse ran to her side.

"NO! Let her get up on her own!" Sherlock barked at the nurse. Molly whimpered on the floor as her nose bled. "Get up Molly."

She reached for the bar but Sherlock slapped her hand. "On your own." Molly's whole body shook but she gathered her footing under her and tried pulling herself up. Her body ached and her muscles where so weak. She imagine she looked like one of those baby deer walking for the first time shows on the tellie, looking like she did. "Come on Molly!"

"PISS OFF SHERLOCK!" She screamed and grabbed the bar pulling her body up right. She glared at him wiping the blood away with the back of her hand. "Who the FUCK do you think you are? LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Sherlock smirked and got her a chair instructing her to sit. She only took it because she thought might faint from yelling at Sherlock Holmes. He came and knelt in front of her. "About time you got mad..." Taking her hands he kissed each one softly. Molly sighed and tried to smile. Sherlock cleaned the blood and kissed her lips. "This is all my fault. I was practically lead him right to you...I just want you to heal faster and not be a victim any longer."

"I agree...I don't want to be a victim, but this isn't your fault Sherlock. Thank you for helping me..."

"You're welcome. What would you do if I told you I didn't care about you? That I just assuring you get better so you can get back to work. "

"I would call you a liar and a bad one at that."

They both smiled and laughed. In just a few weeks she would be back at home with him and he could better protect and help her. This never ending guilt he felt in the weeks pass had soften. Her love had done that since the start. Her trust and the why she thought he was some kind of super hero, kept him strong. Maybe he needed her just as much as she thought he needed him. But the truth was she didn't, she was so strong without him. It was that strength that kept her alive in that morgue. Officially Miss Mousy Molly was gone. He kissed her cheek helped her back up.

"Let's try it again."

\-----------------------------------------------

 

The next four weeks or so where difficult to get through, not only just for Molly. After starting rehab and then building back her body to the point she could go home, had only taken a miracle of two weeks. Now started the truly horrid part. The counseling. The idea of some selfish prick digging around into her feelings and memories boiled her blood and she feared Sherlock's too, who often came to the meetings with her. She found out early that the physical wounds cause so many more emotionally ones, that would take a lot longer then she thought to heal.But after each session, Sherlock was always ready to take her mind off the matter. Walks, dinners, ice cream, and on the occasion dinner with Mary and John. Anything to bring her back to the here and now. Molly thought at first he was trying to hide from the past but hiding was not Sherlock Holmes style. He was just putting it be hind him and truly focusing on her. Of course he still took cases and worked as he did before, but the glances he gave her when he would be reading or working made her heart jump. She wasn't invisible anymore. He saw her. And wanted her.

After the last week of counseling she was allowed to return to work. A part of Molly doubted her ability to go back to work, or just enter the lab at all. But she was strong and was being constantly reminded by Sherlock daily that there was nothing she couldn't do. It seemed he didn't leave her ever after she woke up, if he wasn't there physically there was always her deep voice cheering her on. After her first week back Molly decided to give up her apartment, it just didn't seem like home anymore. Baker street and Sherlock had slowly became her new Home. Mrs. Hudson welcomed her with open arms and would always enjoy coming up and having tea with the young lady friend of Sherlock, since he still refused to use 'BOYFRIEND' as his title. A few weeks into a routine and it seemed as though Molly had been there since the beginning. 

 

It had been almost four months since the shooting when Molly finally accepted the fact she had scars. It all started because Molly and Sherlock had been invited out by Mary and John, of course she accepted. Their first double date why not? When Mary and John decided upon the opera, her heart sank. Molly loved the opera, but every nice dress she had would one way or another show off her scars. Backless dresses. Low collar dresses. She could always wear a turtle neck? It was just happen since her release to wear a decorative scarf around her neck to hind the ones that tried to painfully show, now she was being held back by them. She wasn't ashamed or embarrassed, but she still didn't want to have them stared at and whispered about.

"Mary, I cant go. None of my dresses work." Molly had called Mary up to try to back out.

"What why?" Mary practically screamed over the phone line, Molly had to hold it away from her ear.

"My scar shows..."

"Oh Molly don't let that ruin your night. Sherlock even said he would come. Sherlock Holmes! Jeez I thought that was going to be a huge fight...He coming though, he is in a strange mood, but he is still coming. It feels like winning a battle with him." 

Molly smiled thinking of him all suited up. She decided her hair down would cover one scar enough, but it was always going to be this painful reminder of that horrible day. She didn't want to be in a sour mood all night because of her self consciousness. What should she do.. so she agreed to go.

 

The night of the Opera came and Molly had locked her self in the bathroom most of the evening trying to get ready. Sherlock now understood the reason why men hated the picking up process in going out for the night. Thirty minutes plus she had been in there, doing god only knows what, but when she came out of the bathroom it was well worth the wait. Her long chest nut brown hair hung around her shoulders and neck in soft ringlets. A deep royal blue cocktail dress hugged each wonderful curve of her body, and his mouth went dry. 

Molly knew of course he would look amazing in his tux and neatly combed back hair, but it was the look of awe on his handsome that made her want to reach out and claim him. Molly nearly laughed at the thought of it. Leaning up she messed it up the combed back hair, so the natural curl came back and she nodded in approval.

"Much better. You look very handsome Sherlock."

"Molly, you look...radiant." His eyes landed on the black shawl she held in her hands and took it tossing it to the couch. Molly looked as he had just tossed her only life saver away. He kissed her temple and whispered.  
"You don't need that."  
Sherlock looked down at his watch and pulled her back inside of her apartment. Closing the door he pushed her slightly against the door. His eyes gazed over her face and body like a hungry tiger wanted a piece of meat. Her mouth went dry. His waist was pressed against hers and it was apparent that she was not the only one wanting the other at the moment. Slowly he pulled down her straps off her shoulders till the silk cocktail dress fell to the floor. Stepping back he took a moment to take a mental picture. His goddess. His Muse. His Molly. She wore no bra and only skimpy black laced panties. His groan out of happiness made her smile ear to ear. It had so long since he had the pleasure of seeing her in her womanly beauty, he had pushed for sex after her released but god did he miss it. He missed they way they fit so prefectly together in the night. It had been so long since he had lasted touched her, and he was dying to as she just stood in front of him. So long since he had taste her, and he was going to tonight even if he had to hold her down to do it. His lips found hers and his hands molded into her soft breast rubbing each nipple with a teasing twirl and flick. He stopped and lead a string of kisses to her shoulder and stopped at the scar. He took his time kissing each inch of the scar tissue then found the others down by her hips and treated it with as much care. His breath got stuck in his throat and he choked on tears.

"I am so very sorry Molly. I cant ask you to forgive me. I owe you so much, and yet I don't feel like I am good enough for you. I am so sorry."

His curls and forehead buried themselves into her stomach and she smiled with a heart filled to the rim with love. Her eyes spilled with tears and she fell next to him wrapping him into a hug.

"Oh you fool. I would do it again in a heart beat...for you."

She kissed him deeply pulling him on top of her. That night Sherlock and Molly made love unlike any time before.

 

Once they arrived to the Opera; thirty minutes late, Sherlock had given his jacket up to Molly to wear, to hide the scar better. If that what made her most comfortable he would do it...For her. And the evening continued as though the shooting had never happen. But as Molly tangled her fingers into his looking out of the balcony, she was so very glad it had. Sherlock and Molly had both changed so much and she would never ask for anything more.


	5. Chapter Five

"You're late." Molly sternly mumbled as Sherlock walked through the doctors clinic's door. He pulled off his scarf and sat beside her and rolled his eyes.

"I am always late. For everyone."

"Are we just anyone Sherlock Holmes?" Her tone dropped ten different levels into a depth of hell. Sherlock didnt John there to inform him this was 'not good'. 

"Thats...I am sorry I will be early next time..I swear it." He tangled his long fingers into her hand and rubbed the top with his thumb. Giving a small grin she melted and gave in to his charm. Molly never could stay mad at him long.

"Hooper-Holmes?" The nurse called out and both of their head shot straight up. Sherlock a bit but more shock that Molly.

"Hooper-Holmes?" Sherlock questioned her as he helped her to her feet and walked back through the door past the waiting nurse to a directed room.

"Well....I didnt know which to put." Molly blushed and shurgged her shoulders in that Molly way.

"Holmes, of course." Molly looked over to the nurse who softly smiled as though she understood completely and crossed something out on her paper.

Molly climbed up on the exam table and dangled her feet over the table, patiently waiting for the doctor. Sherlock watched her. She obvious nervous, but it was strange enough she looked so beautiful. Her grey jumper and bright blue blouse brought out her eyes. Sherlock would never get tried of her eyes. Molly looked his way and blushed.

"Stop staring."

"I can't." Sherlock smirked and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and then noticed a basket of magazines in the floor. He picked one up and began reading through a few pages.

The doctor came in and smiled a huge grin. He was a much bigger man, but in a jolly way.

"Ah, you must be the father?!" He rushed up on Sherlock and reached out for his hand. Sherlock taken back but the smothering politeness shook his hand and then sat back down.

"Yes I am." Molly smiled as he said it and then unknowingly reached down and held the small bump. His bump.

Nothing prepared him for the news that he was going to be a father. That night at the opera had been a very eventful night but never did he think it would lead to fatherhood. But never did he once deny or turn away from his duties. Molly was more than excited and thrilled to have him come along and even if he was bored out of his mind when they baby-talked or shopped or decorated...etc... he did it because it made her happy. Molly moved into Baker street and slept the first few weeks in Johns old room before she thought it silly and started sleeping in bed with Sherlock, whenever Sherlock did sleep. John room had been transformed into a make shift nursery, thanks to Mary and Molly.

A nice design of clouds and stars everywhere. Molly even painted real consolations on the ceiling, Sherlock approved and would even help her paint. Since they didnt know what they where having, a night sky seemed to be a good choice.

The doctor directed Molly to lay back and lift her shirt. Her belly seemed bigger when she laid back. Sherlock moved closer to Molly casually and placed a hand on her shoulder. He secretly wanted to know what the child was, but upon agreeing with Molly to keep it a secret he didnt ask.

The sonogram gel was chilled and felt Molly giggling as the doctor moved the wand over the round bump. A 'woush'ing sound followed by a fast beat heart filled the room. Sherlock grin ear to ear nearly in complete shock.

"Thats the heart?" He asked the doctor so excited it got Molly's attention and she watched him carefully.

He nodded and turned on the screen allowing them to see the shadows of a human-like figuer in her womb. Sherlock saw the tiny thing move and kick on the screen and his jaw fell open. He mouthed out the word "WOW" a few times then grin over to Molly. Molly watched him happily and squeezed his hand.

"There is it legs and arms...and here is it private parts." The doctor pointed tot he screen and Sherlock zoomed in on it to try and get a better look at the black and white blurry image.

"A boy?" Sherlock questioned him never looking away. The doctor knew Molly's wishes of not wanting to know so he looked towards her and she just smiled and nodded.

"I want to know to...is it?" Molly asked feeling Sherlock on edge beside her.

"Sure looks that way. Congratulations. " The doctor nodded as he handed Molly a towel to wipe the gel off with. Molly cleaned up and was handed the strong of pictures of their child. Sherlock smiled at the news and looked over Molly's shoulder at the strip of sonograms. "Everything looks good, see you in a month? Congratulations again." He stood and left leaving Molly alone again with Sherlock.

"A boy?" She said softly looking down at the pictures.

"A boy. Are you not pleased?" Sherlock questioned sitting on the edge of the bed helping her adjust her shirt over her bump.

"I am very pleased. Name?"

"Not Sherlock."

"Not Sherlock Holmes...I like it." Molly teased and got down holding his hand as support.

 

Eight months along and Molly was still working at St. Bart's her postmortem days where over for a while. But that didnt stop her glaring over shoulders of the assistants watching their every move. But the smell of iodine was making her sick every chance it got. Sherlock wasnt liking this part of the pregnancy either. The temp assistant pathologist was stuck up and to by the book, and at one occasion made Molly cry by say she 'wasn't needed'. Of course Molly burst into to tears over just about everything but Sherlock hated him more just because.

Molly spent a lot of time with Ms. Hudson preparing the baby's room and thinking of names that Sherlock just wouldnt shoot down. Finally they had narrowed it down to a middle name they agreed upon. Alistair. But no first names yet. It was that night that Molly sat at the table while Ms. Hudson cooked up some dinner for the two of them.

Suddenly Sherlock came bouncing through the door filled with just pure joy, neither of the ladies had to look up from what they where doing to know that Sherlock and John were back from a case. Either solved or just a really juicy murder it didnt matter, Sherlock was blissful either way. He came in and kissed Molly passionately then made a way to Ms Hudson and swung her around. Both laughed and giggled.

"Sherlock?" Molly raised a brow.

"Its solved! So brilliant! " Sherlock flopped in a chair beside Molly and sighed happily. John said his hellos and leaned up against wall.

"Oh Sherlly you have blood all over your coat." Ms. Hudson pointed and started to wipe it of.

"Ms. Hudson please...."

"What's your name?" Molly spoke up and made everyone silent. They looked as though she was crazy or growing a third foot from her head.

"Ms. Hudson." Sherlock answered for her and laughed under his breath a bit. Molly smacked his arm playful and John looked as though he was trying to solve the impossible.

"What is your first name Ms. Hudson."

She blushed a deep red and put the cloth down. "Martha...but I always hated my name...it felt right to be Ms. Hudson. Even after the the sentencing.

"Martin...is the male version right?" Molly asked grabbing a pen and paper writing it down not looking up to see her nod but then notice her write something else down.

"Martin Alistair Holmes"

"I like it." Sherlock spoke first and smiled over tot he two ladies.

"So do I." John chimed in and nodded in approval. "Its not Hamish..but its prefect none the less."

"No..name your son after...some one special." Ms. Hudson laughed it off.

"But you are special." Molly grabbed her hand and Sherlock stood walking over and hugged her as she sat. "So Martian Alistair Holmes it is. And IF there is another one we can name it Hamish."

"If?" John asked

"Hamish?" Sherlock and Ms. Hudson said together. Molly just laughed.


	6. Chapter Six

Rochester Cathedral had always been a place Molly wanted to go see. She had lived in London since she finished Uni. and didnt bother to travel much. And technically she shouldnt be there now. She had been put on bed rest but she wasnt letting Sherlock venture out by himself. John and Mary where busy with Mary's family today and that prevented John from tagging along with Sherlock like the old mates normally did. Now she was on a case of missing teenage girls kidnapped from the Rochester Cathedral area when all she really wanted was a hot bubble bath to help with her back pain and swelling feet.

But Molly sat in her hotel room at the King's Head, bored out of her mind as Sherlock sat on at the desk looking over information. She thought for a while that he was speaking to her but he really was just talking to hear himself speak.

The Italian diner across the street smelt amazing and it was making her...them... hungry. Molly rubbed her huge belly and waited for Martin to kick back. He normally was right on que, but today he was a lot less active than normal. Molly guessed getting bigger and loosing room prevented that . Her stomach growled again and she didnt wait much longer before trying to get out of bed, and after a few attempts she was on her feet. Laughing off the event she fixed her shirt and leggings before grabbing her bag.

"Grabbing something to eat?" Sherlock mumbled as he flipped through a few pages of paperwork provided by the local police.

"How did you? ....Nevermind...Yea, we're a bit hungry. Want something?" Molly tossed on her coat as she glanced out the window seeing the storm clouds.

"Coffee.."

"Two sugars...anything else?" She leaned over his shoulder his kiss his cheek. It jointed him to focus and he turned and placed his hands on the huge hill under her shirt and kissed her lips softly. His long finger spread out and tried to hold all of the belly at once. He nose against it he kissed the shield protecting his child.

"Be good for your mum." He whispered and smirked a bit feeling a small movement.

"Be back in a minute." Molly squeezed his hand and headed down the stairs to the lobby. It was really quite there that afternoon. Of course the kidnappings kept everyone on there toes but it was creepy silent. Heading across the street and into the Italian cafe she grabbed her a bite to get then back to the hotel lobby to fill up a cup for Sherlock. Martin moved and it cause a bit of discomfort to Molly. Her lower back started to ache a bit and she had to leaned up against the wall to catch her breath. From the stairs she heard the stomps of someone darting down the stairway. Molly was a bit shock to see Sherlock, jacket and scarf on darting down the hall.

"Be back soon! I have a lead!" He shouted as he ran out the door.

"Ok?" Molly said in a sorta mousy way before tackling the stairs again back to their room. Once in she took the moment to look up at the clock. 16:45pm. Grabbing the plastic sliver wear she dug into the plate of Baked Manicotti. Once done she looked over to her cell and wondered if Sherlock had touched base with her. He hadnt. Snuggling down onto the bed and covering herself with a small blanket she watched a bit of telly before feeling the back ache again, this time worst. It took the breath out of her and she had to sit up to reduce the pain. Was she having braxton hicks? God she hoped so. Looking at the clock again it was 17:23pm. 28 mins apart.

Rolling back over she decided to get some rest and sleep it off. She had to stop worrying every time she started to feel something different. Molly had no one to talk to on this. No mother. No friends with kids. So yea she was a bit scared and nervous to the point the thought of labor was beginning to frighten her. The sound of her cell chiming woke her and she read the incoming text.

Solved. The Librarian. We can leave tonight if you want? -SH

Let's stay. On your way back? xxMolly

ETA 10mins -SH

ok xxMolly

Molly smiled and sat her cell back on the endtable but then left another pain this time it tighten her stomach and made her yelp out. She tried to get out of bed but she couldnt sit up with being in exterme pain. She made it off the bed and used it as a brace trying to walk, but she felt something warm run down her legs. Moving a hand down to her thighs, she felt the soaked leggings cling on to her legs. Her water broke! She was three weeks early! They didnt even have the hospital bag with them. She need to call Sherlock. She had to walk around to the other side of the bed to get the cell before dialing his number.

"Hello?"

"Sherlock...I think my water broke." Molly moved around the room gathering their feeling tossing it in a bag not caring if it was folded or neat at all.

"You think? Any labor pains?"

"Loads....I am packing our stuff we need to get to St. Bart's."

"Molly that's nearly an hours drive from here."

"I dont care Sherlock...ugh...hang on..." Molly felt a small contraction come and go then resume talking. "Get me to Bart's."

"I am calling Mycoft..." Sherlock said before he hung up the phone. Molly's hands shook as she waited for the next round of contractions. She was so scared. They were far from her doctor and Bart's the hospital she trusted. She didn't want to be in a place she didnt trust when Martin was born. Everything was going wrong. Molly sat on the bed and started to cry with her face in her hands.

When Sherlock came in she was still sitting there crying and he slid infront of her on his knees.

"Molly whats wrong?"

"What if something goes wrong? What if I am a bad mother?" She muffled the words out over her cry's. Sherlock wrapped him in his arms and kissed her head. Molly held his hand, which where as shaking as hers. Truth be told Sherlock was just as scared. Opening his heart to Molly was hard. The most difficult thing he ever wanted, but once he did it felt like he needed her to live. Molly was his lifeline. Now this little guest had slowly pushed his way into their lives. How could Sherlock possibly be a father? He knew nothing about children other than they cried and cause way too much trouble.

"We will be fine.." He lied. But making her clam down was best for her and their baby.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Am I ever wrong?"

"Christmas party."

"Minus that...." Sherlock wiped away her tears and cupped her cheeks. Molly's smile was faded by another contraction. Sherlock held her hand and once gone helped her to her feet. "Mycoft has a helicopter on its way. No having a baby in the air ok?" He tried to chuckle a bit but had a gut feeling that wasnt going to happen.

Molly nodded and grabbed a small bag as Sherlock the big bag and ran it down stairs before coming back for Molly.

 

The helicopter ride would be a story neither of them would forget. Martin Alistair-Scott Holmes was born as they where flying over Welling at 18:18pm in the helicopter by the best ob/gyn doctor Mycoft could find on such short notice.What they say about child birth is complete wrong. There was nothing beautiful about it. Molly grunted moaned groaned and scream for most of it. She laid in his lap as the doctor had limited room to work with. But once Sherlock saw this tiny naked bloody boy surface in the hand of the doctor his heart stopped. Molly and Him just gaped at the infant. They left he cord intact until they reached the hospital, but Martin was wrapped in a towel and Sherlock's coat and placed in Molly's arms. At that moment everything he had done and everything she had been through was suddenly worth it. The boy's blue eyes blinked up at them in between crys. Sherlock felt the stupidest grin come across his face has he reached out to touch the baby. instantly the baby held on to his father's finger with a death grip. Sherlock knew his live was about to change forever. Once at St. Bart's Molly and Martin were taken and evaluated and then cared for, with Sherlock on the nurses and doctor heels the whole time.

Martin laid in a small cradle in the nursery being overlooked by his father when John and Mary came running down the hall. John stopped at the pure sight of Sherlock. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair a complete mess, and the sight pink color of blood on his white shirt. Sherlock was grinning ear to ear as he stood over his son. The nurses making him put on a NCIU gown before handling his infant son. Mary and John watched through the glass as the nurses helped Sherlock position his arms. Even Mycoft and Lestrade stopped by to see the newest member of the Holmes clan. Bouquets of flowers were brought by the hospital staff, Mycoft, The Wastons, and Ms. Hudson, and all of them filled her room with such a lovely smell. Molly loved it, even in her light sleep she could smell them.When Sherlock walked in the recovery room she looked as though she was falling sleep again, he wanted to see her or he wouldve let her sleep. He went into the room and sat down beside her very gently on the bed. He brushed back her hair and nudged her awake.

"Hmm?" She sorta asked half awake.

"Thank you."

"For?" She opened her eyes and then smiled as she noticed this tiny bundle in his arms something she thought would never happen.

"For him. He is pretty spectacular." Sherlock said handing Martin to his mother laying him on the bed cradled in her arms.

"Simply amazing..." Molly was still in awe.

"He looks like you." Sherlock traced his finger around the sleeping infants round cheeks then cupped his head flatting the tiny hairs.

Molly looked up at Sherlock and kissed him deeply, holding back tears of pure joy. "Thank you too."


	7. Chapter Seven

Molly walked to her son's nursery, cracking the door ever so slightly to peak in. It had only been a week since they came home but life was quickly changing. Molly watched as Martin cooed in his father's arms, as Sherlock rocked half asleep himself. Sherlock's chin lowered and it appeared as he had drifted off as he was pressing his lips to his son's head. Molly's heart melted at the sight. She had to be dreaming. Quietly Molly walked over grabbed the child softly, feeling Sherlock protective grip tighten on him, but releasing once he saw Molly.

"It's ok, putting him to bed."

Sherlock nodded and kissed his son soft head before she took him off. They both exited the room and met in the hall.

"Thank you for getting him down." Molly tucked a hair be hide her ear and straighten her long shirt and pants.

"It's no problem...I enjoyed it."

Molly smiled and kissed his cheek before heading off to their bedroom. Sherlock stood there in the hall leaning against the wall, puzzling on how he had improved his life. How domestic life had changed him. How Molly had changed him. Looking up at the door to his son's room he was thankful for each bit that had changed for the better. Thinking where he couldve been right now if they hadnt sent chills down his spine.

"Sherlock....?" Molly called from their room.

"Yes?" Sherlock pushed the door open a bit to see Molly laying in bed in just her long shirt. Showing off her legs, that drove him crazy, even if Molly thought she looked different now that Martin had come. Sherlock saw this muse he couldnt help but be aroused by. "Am I rocking you to sleep too?"

"You better..."

 

 

It was strange having a child at Baker Street. Nights where never the same, cases we handled differently, and over all Sherlock changed. Helping with nappies changing and entertaining the mini Sherlock was nearly impossible. Martin or commonly known as Marty would love to 'experiment' as his father would call it. Testing different cry's to see which of his beloved beck and call personnel responded first. Of course this was the theory of Mr. Holmes himself, Molly figured he was just hungry again, but she always responded to Marty's cry's first.

Months pasted and so did many of Marty's first's.

Christmas at the Hooper-Holmes flat had improved from that horrid Christmas party years before. Marty wore a sweater Ms.Hudson had made him and his mother stuck a bright red bow on his head. He of course was more interested on trying to eat the wrapping paper and bows then to care that his father had bought him a train set and a beginners chemistry set. Thank god Molly, Ms. Hudson,Uncle John and Aunt Mary got him colorful and textured building blocks and age suitable toys and clothes. And for new years they all gathered at Uncle John and Aunt Mary's flat for dinner. Marty didnt last till midnight of course, but Molly stole a kiss and then received one from his father. It was an overall good year.

 

Marty's first and second birthday came and went. Sherlock and Molly remained ever much in love as they had before the shooting. Two small scars reminded her of the dangers that followed close by but the image before her eyes made the risk worth it. Sherlock was carrying Marty on his shoulders so Marty could fly is airplane Uncle Mycoft had bought him. Since's Marty's birth Mycoft had made an effort to be apart of his life. Dinners here gifts there, ice cream a few times, and in nicer weather pinics. It was lovley but so darn hot. It was June, beautiful and warm June. Hot June.

"Ugh...I hate it being so hot.." Molly was laying in the grass at The Holmes estate as Sherlock carried Marty, the cute and smart; to smart Marty.

"I can imagine it being very warm for you...but Marty and I dont seem to be bother. Right my boy?" Sherlock lifted him off his shoulders setting him on the ground, the moment he did his tiny feet flying him across the grass he ran so fast. Marty made airplane noises and few until his plane had engine troubles and came into a crash landing gently on a huge hill.

"Mummy my plane crash landed!" Marty giggled as he set down beside her.

Molly smiled and leaned up careful and rubbed the huge hill that was once again her belly. "Oh did it now? When will it be ready to fly again?"

"When brother comes." Marty said laying head head upon his mothers belly and listened. "He says he wants a Popsicle now."

Molly and Sherlock laughed, as they surrendered the Popsicle from the ice chest and he sat eating it, as it melted a orange sticking mess all over his fingers.

"So mummy, how is little brother doing?" Sherlock asked kissing his Molly passionately on the lips.

"SHE is fine today daddy, thank you for asking." Molly corrected him sitting up and getting herself a Popsicle. Like Marty her favorite flavor was orange but was a bit more careful on not letting it melt faster than she could eat it.

"And what makes you think its a girl?" Sherlock question wiping off the sticky fingers and hands of his son.

"I am a doctor."

"I hate to agree with Sherlock but I believe its a boy as well." Mycoft butted in and Molly looked up grinning and rolled her eyes. Mycoft sat beside Marty on a stone bench of course.

"Good. I...we... cant wait to beat all three of the Holmes boys." Running a hand across her belly she smiled and watched as Marty continued to play with the airplane.

Molly moved to one side of her hip as the baby started to twist and move. It was always uncomfortable but Sherlock couldnt help but be amazed by how much this little one moved compared to Marty. He moved closer and placed a hand on the thin material her dress was made of and felt his child roll within her. Smirking he tapped the roundness and then saw the belly indent and then disappear. It was almost like that shark movie, when the fin would appear in the water then go back down under. 

"What are we going to name her?" Molly said softly but enough Sherlock could hear. Her hand finding his, and laying ever so gently on it. Tangling their fingers together.

"Charlotte?" Sherlock kept his eyes between the belly and the giggling boy playing not far off. Molly looked up a bit shocked and marveled at him.

"That was my mum's name...how did you know? I never talk about her..." Molly felt tears rising into her eyes and Mycoft silently stood and chased after his most favorite nephew. 

"I might have done some research...are you angry with me?"

"Of course not...Charlotte it is then. And then Violet-Marie, after your mum. Charlotte Violet-Marie Holmes. Very nice. I like it." 

"As do I. Now for boys names."

"Uh no..."Molly laid back and closed her eyes pretending to head back to sleep in the tall grass. The sounds of Sherlock and Mycoft arguing and Marty playing might have been heaven brought to earth. Molly was enjoying her family. One she hadnt had in a long time.

 

 

Molly did love proving the Holmes boys wrong. The second day home with their sweet little Charlotte. Her head covered in tiny dark brown curls and bright blue eyes like her brother and father. Her rosey red lips and sweet little face. She was everything Molly ever wanted in a daughter. She was the most prefect little lady. Molly cradled her close on the King size bed, her big brother sleeping next to his father, after joining in the early hours of the morning. Marty held out his hand for his sister to hold on to and since then had not let go of it. Marty was warming up to his baby sister well. Sherlock had welcomed her into his heart as he did Marty but felt like this one needed extra protection. Uncle mycoft had of course sent Athena to buy the most lacy and pinkest dress she could find for his niece to come home in. The simply yellow duck outfit , a prefect uni-sex outfit just wasnt good enough for a Holmes lady.

Now laying with her whole family in bed she felt extermely blessed. She shouldnt have been there. She should be six feet under after those shots. Five years ago no one couldve made her believe that she would happy in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes with two beautiful kids, with tons of friends and family around her.

Sherlock mustve woken up and caught her thinking, it was like he could read her mind. "This is not a dream..."

"I know. I just feel terribly blessed...to have Marty and Charlotte ...and You. When did I start counting in your eyes?"

Sherlock reached over and held her free hand and rubbed the back of it softly giving it a tight squeeze.

"You always counted Molly."

She could already tell it was a lovely September morning. 

 

 

"Yes, I know I gots its right here. Good Job. Now stay put till I calls on ya,kay?"

The phone was disconnected and The Cell as slide back into the shirt pocket of a sniper. He had his L42 Enfield aim at a sweet little flat located in the heart of London. Inside a sweet little family. A Mother-to-be and a Father-to-be. Soon the good old papa would leave the house and travel down to Baker street where he would meet another Papa. The two will leave on a case, oh somewhere in Kent if he had to take a guess, and leave the two Mama's and the baby birds all alone.

Sebastian Moran smiled and lit a fag waiting until John Waston and Sherlock Holmes got the call from DI Lestrade and where heading off towards Kent. Just waiting....five years waiting....he had time to kill.

THE END.


End file.
